


Circles

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Alcohol Problems/Addiction, Drinking, J'oanne of Arc, M/M, Mentions of Death, Mentions of dub-con, Multi, Slight Historical mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 17:20:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Looking back, there were a lot of people he had loved.<br/>A lot of people he had cajoled, and coerced into their place beneath him. A lot of people he had put down, hard."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Circles

He was never one for subtlety. He wanted what he wanted, when he wanted it. It was the same way with people. 

He loved Alfred.   
Really. Truly. He did.  
He adored him.  
He was a beautiful baby, and he wanted to take him into his arms, and protect him.  
And, oh, how much he had wanted him once he hit puberty. Blue eyes, blonde hair, pretty face.   
His looks would have been more at home on Francis’ son. But Francis’ son is pretty in his own way. More delicate, quiet, civilized.

 

He loved Francis, too. He was gorgeous, and he seemed to know how the world worked.  
Once he was old enough, he realized just how much he wanted Francis. But Francis didn’t want him. So he made a point of putting him down every time he could. When he had seen that little girl fighting for Francis, for his Francis, he had seen red. He liked to think she had seen the same red when his people burned. Her. Alive.

 

Looking back, there were a lot of people he had loved.  
A lot of people he had cajoled, and coerced into their place beneath him. A lot of people he had put down, hard.   
He remembers saving Francis. Remembers the look in his eyes.  
Remembers being begged by a drunken Francis. Remembers taking him, even though he was sober, and most would disapprove. He doesn’t care.

 

He doesn't have to remember Matthew. Matthew tells him everything he needs to know in those needy little looks, those moments when he’s bleeding, and bruised. He still wants his opinion, still wants his love. But Matthew is barely more than a child, still hanging onto him because his father isn’t a responsible country.

But, Alfred. Alfred is a completely different situation. He loves him. Oh yes. Alfred loves him. He loves himself, but nowhere near as much as he loves Arthur. Alfred takes the hits when he’s drunk. Even when he isn’t drunk, he still takes the hits. He doesn’t mind limping the next day, doesn’t mind the rough, harsh, hair pulling, lip biting, bruising sex they have. Oh yes, Alfred loves him. Alfred even makes up stories about accidents that never happened, just to make sure no one harasses him about it. But Arthur doesn’t love Alfred. Not anymore. He loves the easy target, he loves the devotion, the warm, soft body, but, he doesn’t love Alfred. 

 

The only one he really loves anymore is the one who won’t do any of it. Won’t do anything. And of all the things he hates himself for, that’s the one thing that twists his image in the mirror the most.  
So, he picks up the bottles of gin off the stairs.  
Turns on the lights, pokes out his still burning cigarette. He leads him into the bathroom, washes off his face. Even when he hits him, and kicks him, he takes it. Even when he curses and shouts when he helps him into the shower. He still gently washes away the bourbon and sick, still makes him wash out his mouth.  
And when he begs him to have sex with him, he’s not quite enough of a monster to accept his offer. Instead, he holds him tight, and when he screams in his sleep, he quiets him with soft words, and gentle caresses.

 

And when Alastair screams at him, hates him, because he’s making him stay sober, he can live with that. Even when his brother says it’s all his fault.  
“If it were no’ fer you, I’d still be m’ own person!”  
Even when Scotland threatens to kill him, he still cares for him. Because it is his fault. It always has been. He deserves it.

 

There's an entire world of pain surrounding him. He causes it.   
And the troubled seem to stick to him like magnets.  
He makes them all worse.  
It's a vicious circle, and he hates it.

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing hard-core BDSM, and it turned into this. Whatever the fuck this angsty bullshit is.


End file.
